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Lending A Hand
Iacon Plain The bright, golden light of Prima Facie and Altera lend this huge section of unbroken surface a soft glow, even through the thick layer of ground metal dust and debris that covers it. The flat, metallic plain continues as far as the optic to see, only to be broken in the distance by the broken ruins of a once great city. Like a Phoenix, the city of Iahex once rose from the ashes of Iacon, and like that same Phoenix, Iahex has once more burned itself out in the fires of war, returning again to ashes. Still, this dreary region of destruction and promises broken has an expectant quality to it, a waitfulness. The Phoenix's cycle is never-ending. Contents: Bonecrusher Rodimus Prime Obvious exits: Fly leads to Sky above Iahex. South leads to Tunnel of Retoris. Captain Americon has arrived. By this point in time, the Kaon Casino really looks like a casino, with multiple gambling halls and a bar and even an arcade and simulation room. Well... it would, if any of these rooms actually had furniture in them. Scrapper is currently working on the Roulette Hall, and he's building a giant roulette table of death. Oh sure, they'll be smaller, more normal roulette tables, but this one is going to be big enough to use a live Autobot as the ball, there'll be trapdoors in it leading to pits filled with spikes, and Rodimus Prime's hand is going to be the pointer. Speaking of Rodimus Prime... Rodimus Prime is helping. Mind you, when he said 'sounds like fun,' he meant using the completed casino, not the process ofbuilding it. But eh, gotta pay if you want to play, and so Rodimus is here acting as muscle, more or less. He's almost completely recovered from his injuries, so he does have a fair amount of muscle to contribute. He pulls in some furniture to be placed, walking by another pile of supplies in the process. He frowns as he spots something, and puts down the chairs so he can check it out. Then he picks something out of the bin. "Uhm... isn't this /my/ hand?" Komatsu D575A Superdozer gets the future parking lot cleared away and transforms to survey it with a satisfied expression and arms akimbo. "Nice an' clean. That'll do it." The bulldozer noisily and awkwardly pulls itself up into a dense, compactly built green robot about twenty feet tall. And what soars in through an open window and lands on Rodimus Prime's shoulder? Americon! "Sup guys!" he says cheerfully, then looks at Rodimus. Something dawns on him. "Wait a minute... YOU'RE NOT GALVATRON!!!" Scrapper looks at Rodimus Prime nervously and answers hesitantly, "Uh, yes. Yes, that is your hand, except it's my hand now, because I took it from you, uh, a few weeks ago, and you have a new hand now, anyway." Having Bonecrusher around actually soothes Scrapper's frayed wires a bit, but he doesn't fancy their combined chances, should the Dominator Disc fail. Then, Scrapper just facepalms over Captain Americon mistaking Rodimus Prime for Galvatron. Robotic Bald Eagle then observes a spherical distortion appearing in the air next to one of the tables. Woops, almost destabilized the universe by mentioning the *other* guy. Better not do it again, Americon thinks. Bonecrusher scowls at Rodimus, coming in to see where he can lend a hand (ha ha) with the casino floor. "Still don't like usin' this non-union labor. Don't trust 'im," he mutters to Scrapper in a stage whisper. Rodimus Prime smirks at Americon. "No. No, I'm not. Is that a problem?" He examines his hand - well, Scrapper's hand for a moment, a faint frown on his face, and then finally shrugs. "Eh, I was an Autobot then. I deserved whatever I got." Then he absently tosses the hand back into the box. He looks over at Bonecrusher and barkss a laugh. "What, worried about being shown up?" "Bein' undercut more like, slaggin' scabs," grumbles Bonecrusher. Scrapper asides to Bonecrusher, "That's the trouble - if we've really made him into a real Decepticon, he wouldn't be trustworthy, either." More loudly, though, he directs, "I'll need some help setting up the spike pit traps in the big wheel." Scrapper gestures to several crates of ACME spikes, only the best. Robotic Bald Eagle looks rather anxious now on Rodimus's shoulder. "Uh, well, no. Haha. You're cool with us, now. Yeah. Buddy." He ulps a bit though. It's like one day the Ultimate Frenchman declared he was now an American. It doesn't compute! "I can do that," agrees Bonecrusher, picking up a crate and carrying it down to the wheel. He pops the lid off the crate with his thumb and retracts his right hand, extending his drill chuck to replace it. The sharp end fits neatly into the chuck so that he can spin the spikes into the boltholes easily. "Nice to see him not shootin' at us, I guess. What'd you do, get the ol' Robo-Smasher out of storage?" Bonecrusher loves the Robo-Smasher. It cured him! Rodimus Prime shrugs at Bonecrusher. "Let me know what you're gettingg paid and I'll be sure to demand it," he says, then looks over at the boxes of spikes and nods. "Sure, I can help with that." He turns and lifts up another one of the crates, resting it against the shoulder Americon isn't on. "Good to hear," he answers Americon. Then he shakes his head at Bonecrusher. "Updated dominator disc." Scrapper looks like he's just come down with an extreme migraine. He excuses, "...you know, I think I need to go sample the supplies for the bar. Make sure they meet code. I'll be back." Shortly thereafter, Scrapper returns, looking just ever so slightly wobbly. "...where was I? Oh right. Building a roulette wheel of death. Yeah... so the spikes go in the pits. But they have to point UP, not down, that is very important." Robotic Bald Eagle raises a wing. "Hey! We have to make sure the roulette wheel of death works! I can help with that... in America!" "Hnh," grunts Bonecrusher, installing spikes. "Insecticon tech. Never liked the stuff myself." He has to think about the payment part. He's not sure what he gets paid, now that he's thinking about it. Being in the Union mainly seems to mean taking a lot of breaks. "Actually..." Rodimsus grins as he sets down his crate of spikes next to the pit, and will hand them off to Bonecrusher as needed, "It's Autobot tech. You're thinking about Cerebro Shells." Transformers have a lot of brainwashing methods. He glances at Americon and frowns. "Yeah? And how do you intend to help with that?" Rodimsus, the first ex-Autobot Cosntructicon. :( Scrapper shakes his head and replies cheerily, "Wheeljack's technology, actually. Just made better. You don't remember when Wheeljack... er... I'll just pour you a drink, too, Bonecrusher." True to his word, Scrapper does pull out a battered metal mug, fills it with 'samples', and sets it aside on one of the crates for Bonecrusher. "And that's great, Americon! I love volunteers. You can check and make sure that the spikes are fixed in place, once we get them into their pits. Of course, we'll have to use you as the roulette ball, but your sacrifice is appreciated." Bonecrusher vaguely remembers something about dominator discs now. But then, maybe he imagined it. Maybe it was a dream he had. This feels like time paradox stuff. Bonecrusher snags the mug full of fule sample and swigs it while he torques down the bolts on a fluid drain. Can't have corrosive Autobot juices pooling here in the spike trap. It'd rust. "Thanks, Chief." "You're welcome," Rodimus answers automatically as he slots a few more spikes into place. And then he blinks. "Oh. Ah. Sorry. Nevermind." Robotic Bald Eagle flaps his wings excitedly. "What Scrapper said! Oh, boy, this should be a lot of fun!" But probably not. Scrapper wobbles over to inspect the trap doors on some of the slots. Not all of the slots are trapped. Just enough to keep it interesting. A few of the slots will even let the 'ball' go free, because every death trap needs some silly way of escaping it. Scrapper leans way, way over one slot... and falls in through the trap door. Luckily, there aren't spikes in this pit yet. He bangs on the trap-door above him, demanding, "Hey, let me out!" Rodimus Prime peers over the edge of the pit where he's installing spikes. Then he casually leans against the edge, crossing his arms over the side and setting his head on his arms. He smirks. "I don't know... this looks like the perfect time to ask for a raise, Scrapper." Scrapper blurts, "We get paid in purple metal! /Why/ do you think our bases are all purple, huh?" This is probably not true, but Scrapper's panicking, and he just had enough to drink to make himself stop thinking about his origin story. Rodimus Prime hnhs. "Bah." He vaults out of his own hit and observes, "The 'Con symbol may look better, but I still think red and orange and yellow make a better color scheme." He crouches down and flips the trap's cover out of the way before kneeling down. He makes a grab for whatever part of Scrapper he can most easily grab and then lifts the Constructicon out of the pit. Scrapper protests, "What, would you have a /red/ Decepticon symbol? That wouldn't make any sense at all!" He's flung out of the pit by the shovel on his back, since that sticks up the most of any part of him, and he hits one of the walls with a 'clang'. If Rodimus Prime keeps up this casually abusive streak, he'll be a commander in no time flat! Rodimus Prime intends that, oh yes. He fully intends that. He straightens and shrugs, smiling faintly. "Why not? It goes with the optics a lot better, after all," he points out, tapping his face right beneath his optics. Scrapper grumbles, "Shut up, purple is traditional. It's good enough for Constructicons, it's good enough for Shockwave, it's good enough for Galvatron, and it'll be good enough for you! But now... toss Captain Americon into the wheel, and let's see how this baby works when it really gets spinning." Robotic Bald Eagle looks down at his chest, and makes a sad face. "I don't wanna have a red symbol!" he whines. "Listen, I wasn't /asking/ for a red symbol," Rodimus answers, snorting in annoyance. "I'm just saying I like this color scheme better over all, was all." Rodimus is totally enforcing red Decepticon symbols when he usurps leadership from Galvatron. The former Autobot leader attempts to pluck Americon off his shoulder and toss him towards the wheel. "There you go," he says. Combat: Rodimus Prime misses Robotic Bald Eagle with his Roulette Wheel of DOOM (Grab) attack! Robotic Bald Eagle fidgets away from Rodimus's hand! "CAW CAW CAW!" he cries, wings flapping furiously. Rodimus Prime shouts after Americon, "Not much of a volunteer, are you?" Scrapper hollers at Americon, "Get in the roulette wheel! Don't make me come after you!" He shakes a fist and slowly picks himself up from where Rodimus Prime tossed him into a wall. Oh well, at least they hadn't painted the place yet. Robotic Bald Eagle blinks, realizing what he did wrong. "Oh, right, sorry. Bird instincts kick in when I'm in bird mode!" He perches back on Rodimus's shoulder and doesn't move this time. Rodimus Prime grins. He expected Americon to just land in the wheel, but he doesn't mind the chance for another throw! He grabs hold of Americon, winds up like a baseball pitcher, and toss Americon into the roulette wheel! Bonecrusher finishes the other wheel and climbs up out of it to have a look at this. He wouldn't want to miss seeing the new death trap / gambling machine in action for the first time! Robotic Bald Eagle is tossed towards the wheel, and transforms mid-hurl into Captain Americon. He holds the shield out in front of himself, perhaps hoping it will protect him from the horrible fate awaiting him. Scrapper is a bit disturbed by how much Rodimus Prime enjoys throwing Americon around. I mean, don't they all? But it's still spooky how quickly he caught on. Scrapper watches as Americon rolls around and around and finally lands on... 5. Scrapper looks downcast. "That's a safe spot. Oh well. Crank the wheel and try it again!" "I'll do it!" Rodimus exclaims happily, approaching the giant-sized wheel. he grasps the edge and then spins it as quickly as he can. "See you 'round, Americon!" he laughs. Robotic Bald Eagle rolls to a safe spot, looking almost like an American-themed ball with that shield. However, he is soon sent tumbling around the roulette wheel once again! "Weeee!" Americon undergoes a patriotic transformation into his All-American robot mode! "My money's on black!" exclaims Bonecrusher, perhaps forgetting for the moment that he doesn't get paid. The wheel spins round and round and lands on... ZERO. Dun dun dun! The trapdoor springs open, revealing the spike pit beneath. Will Captain Americon's shield save him? Will he remember that he has anti-gravs? Tune in, after a message from our sponsors. Kremzeek Cola! Now made with 100% weapons-grade-plutonium-derived energon, still safer than high fructose corn syrup! And back to our show... And the answer is no and no! "Argh!" Americon cries from inside the pit, though it's hard to see how horribly mangled he is, given he appears to have landed shield-side out. Bonecrusher leans over the rail shaking a fist excitedly. But did he land on red or black, that's the question! The zero is green. Lime green. Bonecrusher slaps his hand down on the railing, bending it slightly. "Yes! Who's got two thumbs and is getting a shiny new ripper attachment? THIS GUY!" Turning back and forth he makes sure everyone sees him pointing his thumbs at himself. Rodimus Prime kneels on the edge of the pit, then he reaches down and plucks Americon out. He looks over the cassette and considers the other's injuries, setting the triple-changer down on the deck. He inspects the wounds, perhaps bringing to mind the fact that he is actually a medic, too. Finally, he declares sadly, "I'm afraid we'll have to amputate." Then he replaces his hand with the whirring buzzsaw and grins. Captain Americon lies there on the floor, punctured in multiple places. There's even a hole in his skull. "Hurgh urgh rugh urgh gurgh!" he replies to Rodimus, not in much of a position to argue. Scrapper politely claps for Bonecrusher and suggests mildly, "Very good, maybe get a REALLY BIG ripper so that Devastator can use it, too." Then, he raises an optical ridge as Rodimus Prime cheerily launches into full-blow Sadistic Medic mode on Captain Americon. "...huh. I guess on the job learning really works?" "Need another hand, Scrapper?" Rodimus asks happily as he lowers the buzzsaw to just over Americon's arm, close enough to perhaps (painfully) grind off the top layer of paint in one narrow strip... and then he replaces the buzzsaw with his hand and /beams/. "Naw, just kidding, Americon!" he says before reaching down and doing what repairs he can manage on the spot. Things like armor and whatnot will probably be need medical. Captain Americon lies there, gurgling a bit as he watches the saw approach his arm. He doesn't move a bit... and then he transforms into eagle mode and sits up on the floor. "That wasn't very nice, Evil Rodimus!" he grumps, apparently able to talk now that he switched heads. Rodimus Prime beams. "Awwww! Whassa matter, Americon? Can't take a joke?" He leans back and shrugs. "I thought we weren't restricted by 'nice' around here." Scrapper sighs as Rodimus Prime doesn't actually chop off Americon's arm. He shakes his head sadly and mutters, "So much wasted potential in the lad." "Maybe he should get a new name. And be painted black," Bonecrusher suggests. "That might encourage his follow-through." Rodimus Prime glares at Bonecrusher and starts to stand. "My name and my paint job are /just/ fine, Bonecrusher," he snarls, once more switching his hand for the buzzsaw. "But if you /want/ follow through, I can give yuou follow through." "Ease down, Big Red," Bonecrusher replies, making the universal ease-down gesture with his hands. "Just an idea." Captain Americon scratches under his beak with a feather. "Hm, that is true! Well, then, I guess I will have to get you back... somehowwww!" He gives Rodimus the Evil Eagle look as ominous music plays in the background. Rodimus Prime is very vain. He's pretty vain as an Autobot - you don't have a paint job like his if you aren't at least a little vain - but as a Decepticon, it seems to be even worse. But when Bonecrusher says 'ease down', he relaxes, brings his hand back, and looks down at Captain Americon. "Try it, short stuff." Captain Americon sits there for a moment, squinting. "...Well, not *right away.* Maybe later. I dunno."